Cheese Fondue

Ji-oh wasn't thinking about anything at all.

People looked at his stiff expression, his gloomy air, and his excessively polite way of speaking and spun every kind of story. That he must have lost someone he loved. That he must have done dangerous work in the past…

All of it was a misunderstanding.

What should I cook today?

Seo Ji-oh was simply a potato of a man.

"…Cheese fondue…"

A spring breeze drifted gently across the bed. Sprawled out like a cat under the weight of sleep, he finally sat up.

"Cheese fondue sounds good."

Today's content was fondue.

Before a meal, a pig never hesitated. Ji-oh went down to the cold storage and chose the cheeses he would use for the dish.

"How should I do this?"

Cheese fondue was something anyone could make easily if they had the ingredients. Of course, saying that out loud would bring every butterfingers in the room charging in to argue—but Ji-oh was not a butterfingers, so it didn't matter.

Besides, cheese fondue wasn't a dish that demanded complicated technique, and for that very reason the recipes for it were endlessly varied.

"Brie as the base would be best."

Brie was the safest, most unassuming choice among the cheeses used for fondue.

"Is this the brie?"

Wrapped in white paper, the brie wore a bloom of white mold across its surface like silk—as if someone had dusted a thick, sticky cheese with sweet powdered sugar.

There was no name written on it, so he sniffed it and cut it in half. Yes. Definitely brie.

"Mild and nice."

Brie was a cheese without a strong aroma. Soft, with a faint scent of mushrooms and nuts, it was perfect for fondue. Paired with bread or fruit, the combination was excellent.

"Using only this would get a little cloying, though."

The downside of brie was that eating too much of it left you feeling greasy and weighed down.

Melted to a limp softness, brie had the quality of cream—yielding, without elasticity. With its gentle fragrance and gentle texture, it was easy to tire of.

"……"

Ji-oh blinked, then muttered,

"I want something a little saltier."

He was craving a cheese that was sharp, salty, and punchy. Brie, after all, leaned mild.

"Parmesan should do it."

Its proper name was Parmigiano-Reggiano.

To Koreans, "parmesan cheese" usually meant the seasoning you shook over pizza. That stuff was a degraded knockoff of true Parmigiano, though—the two had almost nothing in common.

"Here it is."

Ji-oh found the portioned parmesan.

"Cutting a whole wheel would be too much of a hassle…"

This was an ultra-hard cheese that needed more than a year of aging. "Hard" meant exactly that—yet the grain inside it was unmistakable. Fail to cut along that grain and the whole thing shattered into rubble.

In that sense, finding it already portioned was a genuine blessing. Whole wheels of parmesan were larger than tires and ruinously expensive, and Ji-oh had never once tried to portion one himself.

Good. I won't have to waste such a precious cheese.

He dropped the properly sized pieces into his basket.

"……"

The smell was already strong.

"Nice."

Parmesan, with its sharp, assertive fragrance, held a whole range of flavors.

For one thing, it was intensely salty. Even a piece the size of a pinky nail made the tongue sting and sent the aroma shooting straight up into the head—the depth of that flavor was fierce.

At the same time, a honey-thick sweetness would brush the tongue as gently as a soft peach, then vanish without a trace. That was half the pleasure of it.

Which is why it's delicious raw, too.

Unheated hard cheese kept a far milder fragrance. For cheese beginners, eating it raw was the recommended approach—and in that state, between the grains of parmesan, there lived the absolute peak of its flavor: the crystals.

"……"

Ji-oh loved that tiny, brittle crunch.

A nutty scent, too.

Too much would be overwhelming, but a small amount would bring the fondue beautifully to life.

"And…"

One more to throw in.

"Gruyère."

Gruyère would be just right.

Like the parmesan, it was a hard cheese, but more flexible than the year-aged Parmigiano, saltier than the brie, and far sweeter.

The faint walnut aroma is one of its more interesting points.

That deep nuttiness was attractive in every way. A fragrance that rich would certainly get along with the cheeses he had already gathered.

"…This should be enough cheese."

Too many would only muddle the aroma and the taste. Ji-oh went back up to the first-floor kitchen.

"Well then…"

Clatter.

He found a thick earthenware pot in a drawer.

"Time to cook."

The method was simple. First, prepare the things you wanted to eat with the cheese.

Anything would do. Cherry tomatoes, asparagus, sweet potato, potato, onion, broccoli, zucchini…. Soft sandwich bread, crisp croutons, chewy ciabatta. You could even eat it with fruit.

But I'll pass on that.

This was a meal, not a snack, so anything sweet and tart held no appeal.

"I'll just give them a quick sear."

He cut the ingredients into bite-sized pieces, tossed them into a wok for a brief kiss of heat, then transferred everything into the wood-fired oven. A short, fierce blast to char the outsides, then out.

Oven-roasted, the ingredients would carry a gentle smoke. Preparing fragrant firewood ahead of time had been worth it.

"That's ready."

Next, the cheese.

He cut what he had brought into fine pieces. Every cheese had to melt at the same time if they were to blend without separating; if the chunks were too large, each one melted on its own schedule, and the oil and fat would split apart.

The first time I made this, I dumped whole pieces in and the cheese oil turned into a river. Still a catastrophe when I think about it.

Into the warmed earthenware pot he poured a film of olive oil and added a single clove of garlic for aroma.

"And wine."

The cheat key that tamed the cheese's funk and lifted its flavor.

In Ji-oh's underground storage, there were also unlabeled bottles of wine. He chose the cleanest-tasting white among them; it married beautifully with the garlic and olive oil and released a pleasant fragrance.

"……"

Thump.

Corking the bottle again, Ji-oh thought,

I should try brewing some alcohol myself sometime.

Time was the one thing he had in surplus; a little fussiness of process was nothing. Starting with wine, he resolved to try distilling spirits, flower wines, fruit wines—everything. An unemployed man had every right to waste time.

When the alcohol had mostly cooked off, he brought over the cheese he had cut.

"All of it in…"

He dumped the whole crumbly heap into the gently heated pot.

"Stir, and then…"

Once it had melted enough for the oil to rise in little beads, he added a light splash of the starch slurry he had prepared. No matter how carefully you melted cheese, the oil and fat layers wanted to separate; the slurry bound them back together.

"A spoonful of liquor."

Something high-proof and full of character—whiskey or brandy—worked best.

"……"

And just like that, a cheese fondue was finished: soft as porridge or soup, yet with a faint chew somewhere in its body.

"Tada."

He was pleased.

Ji-oh carried the cheese and all the ingredients to the table and sat down. Under the pot he lit a small candle so the cheese would stay warm and stretchy.

This part is a little annoying.

Left to cool, cheese hardened again, so you had to keep heating it this way. Fondue tools, then, were essential if you wanted to eat cheese fondue at all.

"Good thing I made them ahead of time."

In any case, the meal began.

"First…"

Ji-oh picked up a piece of well-cooked asparagus.

"……"

He plunged it deep into the cheese and drew it out; the cheese, loosened by the wine and starch, stretched after it in a long, elastic strand. The asparagus, charred hard in the oven, still held its deep green color.

The scent of fresh vegetables rose up, along with asparagus's own soft, understated fragrance. Its bright flavor, which paired so well with fat, looked promising.

"Mm…"

Crunch.

The stalk chewed with a lively spring.

Delicious.

Like the juices of a well-seared cut of meat, the asparagus's sweetness ran out—carrying a subtle bitterness with it.

Not enough to grate on the nerves; just like the astringency in yuzu tea, the bitterness of the asparagus struck a perfect harmony with everything else.

The once-seared surface crumbled like a thin dry leaf. Just beneath, the stalk—heated through pan and oven—was soft, juice-heavy, and yielding. Deeper still, the living core of the plant snapped crisp and fresh between his teeth.

And it goes beautifully with the cheese.

The cream-soft brie held the foundation. It might have grown cloying on its own, but the sharp punch of the parmesan caught it, and between them the dense walnut depth of the Gruyère wove everything together.

Asparagus's delicate flavor especially loved fat—cheese, cream, butter, that whole family—and it locked into this garlic-scented fondue without the slightest friction.

The juiciness and crunch made it feel almost like eating a tender spring green.

"……"

This was life.

"…A life where you get sleepy even while you're eating… nothing could be more ideal."

With a soft spring breeze drifting through the wide-open window and a fondue that soothed the stomach with every bite, this was heaven itself.

"Once I finish, I'll go out and take a nap. Where should I sleep today?"

Next he chose the ciabatta.

"Nicely baked."

Ciabatta was a bread famous for its fluffiness and chew. Its lightly floured crust had been swept with butter and now offered the same kind of depth you found in a soup's roux.

Thanks to the wood oven, the outside was wonderfully crisp; where the butter had soaked in thickest, it had the crunch-and-softness of a crouton floating in soup.

"Now for the cheese…"

Plunge. Deep in.

"……"

Chew.

He put it in his mouth.

"……"

Excellent.

This is it.

Ji-oh set a well-cooked piece of potato on top of the cheese-laden bread.

"Mmm…"

Fondue really was best when you got to play with combinations.

Crisp-and-chewy bread, cheese of every texture, a fluffy potato cooked in butter until its flavor sang. From mouthfeel to taste, there was nothing to criticize.

A tomato to cleanse the palate…

Pop!

"…Ah, this is good too."

The cherry tomato, given a short, fierce heat so the flesh inside wouldn't overcook, was still crisp, holding a gently warm little pool of juice at its center. Its skin had the fragile snap of a well-cooked sausage.

"This should work with the cheese, too."

And once he ate it that way, the layered flavors made him happy.

"Maybe a crouton this time."

Ji-oh ate whatever came to hand.

A crisp crouton plunged into the stretchy cheese, once. Soft broccoli cooked just short of mushy with cheese that spread like cream, once. Sweet, fluffy sweet potato with salty, savory cheese, once….

There had been enough food to fill a basin, but Ji-oh polished it off in no time.

"……"

He marveled at the miracle his stomach had performed. It might not qualify as Noah's Ark, but it was at least Ji-oh's Ark.

"Has my capacity gone up?"

He had always been a big eater, true—but he was fairly sure he hadn't been quite this much of one before he entered the painting.

"……"

Ji-oh's ultimate positive mindset engaged.

It's fun, so who cares.

Tada.

His rationalization was a complete success.

Even after eating all that, his stomach didn't feel heavy. For a gourmet and a glutton—someone who found pure joy in eating—that was something to celebrate.

"People these days are out there breathing fire from their mouths. Compared to that, I'm practically civilized."

A person living long enough was allowed to evolve a little, wasn't he?

"Time to grab a snack and go take that nap…"

Ji-oh packed a clean basket with well-dried Mangdung Fruit, Baibamneul tea leaves, and a glass bottle of warm water. The deep golden Mangdung Fruit had shrunk to the size of raisins and made an excellent snack.

The ones drying outside have gone completely hard. I should be able to make Mangdung Fruit medicine soon.

Ji-oh settled a black cloak around his shoulders.

I'd like to upgrade this later, too.

The cloak he had made when he first came to his senses inside the painting was still perfectly usable. He had sewn it so he wouldn't catch the eye of any dangerous beasts that might be out there, and so his body wouldn't brush against poisonous plants or tear his clothes.

For something roughly stitched together from cloth he had scavenged around the cabin, it wasn't bad.

Light, thick, and it breathes well.

He didn't feel cold or heat easily, but the ground pressing into his back when he lay down on bare earth was another matter. In those moments, the cloak would make a fine blanket. Straightening his clothes, Ji-oh headed for the spring.

Walking slowly, he arrived before he knew it. The spring was still beautiful, still quiet, and yet full of the murmuring of every kind of living thing.

So what did that mean?

"……"

Yawn.

"Nice."

He was sleepy.

Ji-oh chewed a few of the chewy dried Mangdung Fruit, then fell asleep without taking a single sip of tea. The cloak, large enough to wrap his whole body, made as excellent a blanket as he had expected.

"……"

Huff— huff—….

Soon he was deeply asleep, and butterflies like bits of sunlight settled onto him.

"Beep."

"Purrrr…"

"Krrngh."

Five or six round-bodied rabbits. One long-legged deer. Plump cats that looked like wildcats, and small and large birds that had been trilling away—several of each.

Gathered all together, they sank into a deep sleep.

"……"

"……"

It was a peaceful nap.

To be continued.